


The Centurion's Daughter

by JenniferJF



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferJF/pseuds/JenniferJF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory's relationship with River. Because she might have more in common with him than with anyone.  Spoilers through Wedding of River Song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Amy woke, for the first time in as long as she could remember, with an overwhelming sense of well-being. The shadow of a headache lingering from the night before barely registered against it.

Then she remembered: River was home. She'd slept in the next room. And this time, finally, her daughter was  _really_  home. There was nowhere else she was supposed to be. Or had to run off to.

And no one would take her away.

Even while part of her mind was wondering how long River might stay, another part was remembering that this wasn't, really, completely true.

Because the Doctor was alive. Out there, somewhere, traveling through time and space. A mad man and his box. And even though there was no way of knowing how long it might be until she'd see him again, still...

Alive.

Amy smiled.

And that's when the smell of bacon and eggs and... thank goodness, coffee... hit her senses.

Throwing back the covers carefully so as not to wake Rory still asleep next to her, Amy got out of bed. Slipping on her robe and slippers, she went in search of breakfast.

She found River, still in her own nightgown, seated at the kitchen table sipping a mug of coffee. And standing behind her at the stove, dressed in the loudest pair of blue and red plaid flannel pajamas imaginable, brandishing a spatula in one hand and a pot holder in the other...

"Hi, Mother. I'm home!"

She barely noticed the look River shot him, or her, "I thought we'd agreed you weren't going to say that." She was too busy rushing forward.

But she clearly heard what he whispered against her neck as his arms closed around her. "Gotcha."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They sat together at the garden table, heads bent together in intense conversation. His dark brown hair and bright green dressing gown contrasted sharply with the bright red and soft pink of hers.

She smiled as she watched them through the glass. She couldn't imagine a more perfectly matched mismatched pair.

"I keep thinking I ought to be jealous," her father observed as he stepped up to the window next to her. "But somehow, I just can't manage it anymore."

River took another sip of her coffee before replying. "I've never been able. Too much a part of who I am." She chuckled. "Besides, if I were to be jealous of every woman who shared the TARDIS with him..."

After a minute, he spoke again, "Can I ask you a question?"

She smiled without taking her eyes of the pair outside. "Of course. You never need to ask."

"I... It's just..."

She turned to look at him. "Yes?"

He licked his lip once, nervously, before looking her straight in the eye and asking, "How long?"

She turned away quickly, back out the window. Afraid of what he might see in her eyes. Unsure of how much to tell him. "Long enough."

"How long, River?" he repeated gently, and she could feel the concern radiating off him like a wave.

She waiting for a moment before answering, not wanting to tell him the truth but fully aware that she couldn't lie. He was Rory. Her father. He wasn't about to let her get away with it this time. And this time, she was finding she really didn't want him to. "You're still old enough to be my father... your memories, at least... if that's what you're worried about," she finally said.

"River..."

She narrowed her eyes to keep them from watering. "But  _he_ ," she continued, nodding towards the man outside and trying to smile through the tears blurring her vision, "Isn't exactly robbing the cradle anymore. Not  _quite_."

"Oh... River," he repeated. And at the gentleness of his tone... the desperately needed compassion and understanding... the tears finally began to fall.

"The funny thing about consecutive life sentences," she explained after a minute, her voice only a bit shaky, "Is figuring out what to do when the prisoner fails to die."

This time, he didn't even try to speak. His hand touched her arm. Softly. In silent invitation. And, turning, she stepped into his embrace.

It was only later that she'd finally fully realized...

How desperately he'd needed her, too.


	2. Tangle

Amy was finishing the last of the washing up, standing before a sink filled with tepid water which probably should have been replaced with fresh several dishes ago. The Doctor stood nearby at the counter, adding milk and sugar to two fresh mugs of tea. Then, suddenly pivoting towards Amy, he neatly flipped his used spoon up and over her shoulder and into the sink. Water splashed across her blouse.

She turned on him. "Hey!" Only her righteous indignation dissolved in the face of his laughter and, laughing now herself, she continued, "Very funny."

He nodded. "Yes. It was."

Amy stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to her work.

Still smiling, the Doctor picked up the mugs and crossed to the kitchen table where River sat, several small stacks of paper neatly arranged before her. He set one of the mugs down in front of her and then, lifting her hair briefly, gently kissed the nape of her neck. "You two are incorrigible," River observed as he pulled up a chair next to her.

He chuckled. "Yup." Then, indicating the paper in her hand, he asked, "That one any good?"

She shook her head, "No," and put the paper on top of one of the piles. "I need to find a University more interested in actual field research than academic review." She paused, smiling teasingly at him before continuing, "Not that academic review doesn't have it's  _place_..."

"Idle gossip being no replacement for actual new experiences?" he finished for her, his own eyes dancing with amusement though he kept his expression straight.

"Yes.  _Exactly_." Her eyes caught and held his, something deep and unspoken passing between them. Then the moment passed and River asked, patting one of the piles in front of her, "Now, are you going to help me find a job, or what?"

And that was when, from where he stood watch in the kitchen doorway, Rory suddenly realized the talk he'd been working up the nerve to have with the Doctor since discovering the man was still alive... That talk which, despite their difference in age – at least real physical age – he'd had a vague notion was his duty as River's father to have with the man anyway...

Was almost certainly already completely unnecessary.

Well...

Maybe not  _completely_  unnecessary.

Because, watching his family, Rory had the strongest feeling that  _someone_  needed to be giving that speech to  _somebody_. He just had no clear idea exactly who either of those two people should be.


	3. Catching Up

Rory drifted up from sleep, awakened by the low grinding whine coming from the next bedroom. Amy rolled over, curling against him. "He  _really_  needs to remember those brakes," she mumbled into his shoulder. Within a minute, her breathing had returned to the slow rhythms of sleep and he tried to follow after her. They'd said their goodbyes the night before; his early morning departure came as no surprise.

Finally, though, Rory gave up trying to sleep. He'd been working the early shifts all week and seven in the morning seemed quite late. His stomach growled. Slipping out of bed, he went in search of food.

River was sitting in the kitchen when he got there, a newspaper spread out on the table before her. Her hair was still a wild tangle about her face and she'd simply thrown a pink fuzzy robe on over her pajamas. He paused in the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his own home.

She must have heard him, though, because, looking up from her paper, she said, "Good morning, Dad."

"Hey," he replied. "Uhm, sorry to disturb you. I could...you know..." He jerked his thumb back the way he'd come.

She smiled. "It's your kitchen," she pointed out. Then, holding up the mug in her hand, she offered, "I made coffee. Pull up a chair?"

He nodded and poured himself a cup. Rejoining her at the table, he sat down and indicated the paper in front of her. " _The_ _Leadworth_ _Chronicle_?" he asked. "That's gotta seem like small stuff. By comparison."

River laughed and smoothed a hand over the paper in front of her. "You'd be surprised," she said after a minute. "Births. Deaths. Marriages..." She pointed to one of the articles. "Mr. Darrin's prize winning sheep... . A lot more interesting than you might think."

He started to laugh, but the sound died on his lips. There was something about the way she looked down at the paper. Like she wasn't quite seeing it at all. "You okay?" he asked instead.

She looked up at him and smiled. And while it was small, it was  _real_. "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I am."

"When will you see him again?" he asked before he'd thought better of it.

She glanced out the window, almost as if she expected to see the blue box landing in the garden. "Soon," she answered after a minute. "He can never stay anywhere for long... might start too many rumors..." Then, she turned back to him, and her face was lit with a smile which left no doubt as to how she really felt. "But, you know him, Father...he  _always_ comes back."


	4. Just Perfect

He hadn't really had much of a chance to look at her – just _look_  at her. Now, though, he could watch unobserved as she slept, drinking in each feature: the curve of her chin, the soft whisper of her breath through slightly parted lips, long lashes fanned across her cheeks, and the pink shell of her ears. Each feature absolutely perfect. Completely familiar yet suddenly new in a way he couldn't have begun to explain.

His daughter.

It was nearly impossible to believe she was really  _theirs_. That somehow, he and Amy were responsible for  _this_. This miracle. Because despite knowing now that she had been...but he still couldn't really bring himself to imagine it enough to think about it without feeling the urge to reach for his sword.

No.

Melody...Mels...River. It didn't matter. The most important part of who she was was theirs. Always had been and always would be.

He knew that, now, too.

River rolled over restlessly in her sleep, her mass of curls tangling across the pillow as she moved. Quietly, so as not to disturb her further, Rory stepped from the room, closing the door behind him... And crashed into Amy who had walked up while he'd stood in the doorway.

"Sorry."

Amy smiled, nodding towards the door he had just stepped out of. "Can't believe she's finally here, either, can you?"

He shook his head. "No. Just had to check to make sure she was really still there."

She laughed softly. "Yeah. I know. Me too." They took a few steps away from her door before continuing their conversation. "You know, when we first realized we'd never see Melo – our baby again – I was...Well, heartbroken doesn't seem to quite do it. But now, having her here...while I'll never get my baby back..." She glanced toward the door, again her smile growing softer than he could ever recall seeing it. "I'm not sure I'd trade  _her_  for anything, either. If you see what I mean?"

He smiled and nodded, feeling almost... relieved?...that he wasn't alone in that. "Yeah. I do. Now, we should probably be turning in ourselves."

Amy smiled. "I'll be there in a minute, okay. I just need to..." She gestured towards River's door.

"Sure, take your time," he said, and started down the hall. Behind him, he could hear Amy softly turning the knob and opening the door.

"What the -" she began, but was cut off by an all too familiar male voice.

"Pond!"

He turned back just as Amy was slamming the door shut. And, as it turned out, she  _could_  blush. "You okay?" he asked, trying to suppress his smile and wondering why he wasn't more upset by the idea of a man in his daughter's bedroom. Even  _that_ man.

Amy nodded wordlessly. Brushing quickly past him, she sped down the hall back to their room.

By the next morning, the Doctor was gone as if he'd never been there except for the new lock on the inside of their guest bedroom door. Which, under the circumstances, Rory had to admit was a pretty good idea.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tsunami](https://archiveofourown.org/works/278438) by [AstraPerAspera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstraPerAspera/pseuds/AstraPerAspera)




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